Chapter Twenty-Two: Chains of Blood

Consciousness returned slowly and Haldir wished it hadn't when he finally came back to himself. His head pounded horribly courtesy of the blow to the back of his head and the lingering traces of the spider venom still in his blood; his mouth felt as dry as sand paper and he felt decidedly sick. There was a coldness pressing against his bare skin and he shivered, realizing that he had been relieved of his tunic as well as his weapons.

He tried to sit up and his back twinged with a sharp, stabbing pain, making him hiss. A soft scrape as though of metal on stone made him open his eyes and he realized that the sound was coming from him. His wrists were chained with heavy fetters, so tightly clamped that they cut into his skin with the slightest movement. The bolts stapling them to the wall, held him firmly in place.

Something had been smeared over the spider bite on his neck and the sting in it had lessened as he reached up to feel it.

His vision swimming, he gradually focused on the room he was in. It was small and very dark. A single torch sat jammed into the bracket beside a heavy wooden door, closely bolted on the other side, he was sure. The dim view of the room was not encouraging. It was damp and smelled moldy as though very old and deserted. He could hear nothing but the silence of stone around him.

The quiet pressed so horribly on his ears, Haldir felt he would surely shout aloud just to break it. He settled for testing the strength of his chains, pulling and wrestling with them until his wrists began to bleed but it was no use. The sturdy iron held him fast.

Haldir slumped at last, defeated for the moment, as his head throbbed worse than ever and nausea seized his stomach. He didn't know how long he lay like that, trying not to think about his companions or what might be happening to them. But it was no use. What had become of them? Were they imprisoned as he was? Or worse? He looked up sharply, startled, as footsteps echoed in what must have been a corridor outside of his prison- for surely this was a dungeon.

He heard the heavy bar on the other side of the door lift and thud dully as it was leaned up against the lintel. The door swung open soundlessly on well-oiled hinges as Haldir struggled to his feet to see his visitor, a wave of vertigo passing over him as he did so.

What looked like a guard stepped into his line of vision, his face carefully devoid of emotion. He wore the livery of green and silver, the colors of the King. Haldir narrowed his eyes against the dim light, recognizing him vaguely as Kirar, a guard of the palace. Another guard, this one entirely unfamiliar, entered behind Kirar and shut the door.

"Sit down," the guard commanded, his voice harsh and blunt.

Haldir ignored the order.

"I have done no wrong. Why have I been brought here?" he demanded, anger infusing into his tone.

But the guard did not answer his question either. He darted forward and viciously kicked Haldir's legs out from under him, pressing down on his shoulders to keep him immobile.

"I told you to sit down and you will do so," he hissed, glancing up towards his commanding officer. Kirar merely nodded.

Haldir stopped struggling as his head gave a particularly painful twinge. He closed his eyes momentarily and when he opened them again, he took a deep breath and spoke more calmly.

"I have done you no wrong- nor have I done wrong to the King. Might I ask why I have been imprisoned and on what charges?"

"Your charges you will face later," Kirar answered, stepping slowly forward and taking the torch from the bracket so he could examine the prisoner's face. Their lord had instructed them to interrogate him and Kirar felt a slight twinge of revulsion for what he had to do. He did not like the way this was being done. His lord and master had not told him his oath of fealty would involve this. They were to be kept down here and given no food or drink. Those were his orders. As well as several other less pleasant things that he shuddered to think on let alone carry out.

"Where is Legolas? Is he all right?" his prisoner asked, half-wildly when Kirar did not speak after a moment.

"I was about to ask you the same question," Kirar responded dryly, forcing a stern glare down at the other elf. Haldir frowned.

"What?"

"What have you done with the prince?" Kirar demanded roughly, ignoring the shocked look on the other elf's face. He stared down at the elf before him, a bright surge of anger roiling through him as he thought of their prince, alone and undefended in some horrible, dark and lonely place.

Haldir shook his aching head, trying to make sense of the words.

"What do you mean what have I done with him? I never-"

"You kidnapped the prince, now tell me what you have done with him!" The other Elven Guard's patience was running thin as well.

Haldir was beginning to get angry in his turn now and more than a little worried. He twisted in his chains against the hands digging into his shoulders to face the other guard.

"I did nothing to him! We searched for him because he ran away- I found him and I was going to take him home-"

"But, he was too good a pawn in your little game to give up wasn't he?" the guard snarled. "You will hurt a defenseless child to satisfy your ambition! You are evil, spawn of Morgoth."

Haldir glared at the elf who had spoken, the offense at the insult flashing in his stormy eyes.

"What?" He couldn't seem to think straight. All of these questions that made no sense! Lies, he realized. All lies. Allies of Ainan's who had branded the Lothlórien elves traitorous had turned even those who might help him against him.

"You have to listen to me!" Haldir attempted to speak in a calm tone though his worry for the prince increased with every second that they wasted. "Legolas was taken in the forest-"

"By whom?" the other guard sneered disbelievingly. Haldir shook his head, his head hurting worse than ever as he berated himself, trying to call to mind a vision of his attackers but nothing would come and the half-formed images slipped from his mind like water in his cupped hands.

"I-I don't know."

The unfamiliar elven guard shook his head, his lips curling in disgust.

"More lies."

Kirar said nothing, his eyes downcast in anger or thought.

In a shadowy corner of the room, the dark elf who watched the proceedings invisibly, smiled.


It was the darkness that frightened him most. It swirled around him, pressing against him, bringing with it memories of a time he wished he could forget.

Legolas shivered against the bone-numbing cold that even he could feel and wrapped his arms around his knees to try to keep warm, bundling himself up into as small a ball as possible. He was still soaking wet in his damp clothes. He had not been chained- yet- and a damp bedding of straw had been laid out for him to sleep on. There were no windows and no doors that he could see for he sat in pitch blackness. He didn't even know how big the room was. The stone at his back was dank and wet, small droplets of moisture beaded from the walls, soaking through his tunic and dripping onto his disheveled head but he dared not move for fear of losing the last bit of solidity holding him against his nightmares.

His mind told him that it was far past sundown for he was bone tired. But he could not be sure in this lightlessness and he could not sleep. He was miserable and hungry and his wrist hurt horribly for it was healing badly; he had lost his sling and bandage in the river. The constant strain he had been putting on it had done no miracles for it either.

Despite his own misfortune, he hoped Haldir was all right. The only thing the prince could remember was being pulled from the river by his friend and then waking with Ainan's guards around them. He shook with fear as he remembered his last waking moments, wondering what would happen to him now. His uncle would be so angry with him!

Despair clutching at his heart, he pulled his knees up tighter against his chest and dropped his head into his arms. He wasn't sure how long he stayed like that, trying to keep his tears at bay but they just continued to build: a howl of misery swirling and tearing inside of him that longed for release.

He raised his head sharply as the door creaked and swung open. The prince scrambled to his feet stiffly and pressed himself into the corner of the cell, as far away as he could get from the door that spilled a glistening pool of faint flickering light upon him, stinging his eyes so that he flung a forearm up to shield them.

"My subordinate told me you were dead. Glad I am to find you alive, tôrion (nephew)."

That cold, cruel voice sent a shudder of fear and revulsion through the young prince's body. Ainan held a long torch in one slender hand. He slid it into a bracket on the side of the wall, dimly illuminating the room with a harsh, wavering glow.

"I warned you those elves would get you into trouble- le ú-lasto nîn (you didn't listen to me.)"

Ainan bent low so he could look up into his nephew's terrified eyes. Legolas flinched away from that silver-blue gaze that latched onto his like the talons of a hawk, clutching him in their cold grip.

"That was very foolish, nephew. I told you before, Legolas, this is for your own good. You have been a very bad boy. And as such you must be punished."

A small whimper caught in the back of the prince's throat as his blue eyes filled with frightened tears.

"Please Vedhir… I'm-I'm sorry… I didn't mean to disobey you- I won't do it again, I swear. Just please-"

Ainan shook his head and laid a finger on the elf-child's pleading lips.

"Shhh, tithen (little one). No tears, remember?" His voice was soft, almost cajoling as though he were a parent persuading a child to calm down after a fall on the stairs.

Legolas swallowed the hard chunk in his throat and blinked his vision clear as Ainan withdrew and the dark elf took his place in the young elf's line of vision. Tindómëtir roughly forced him against the floor, lashing his arms in front of him. The young prince began to tremble against the cold floor as he curled protectively in on himself, keeping his face low, his cheek cold against the stone floor.

Scarlet robes swept the damp stone at his eye's level. Legolas kept his gaze on the floor, not daring to look up into his uncle's face.

The prince suppressed a shiver.

"Lasto, (listen)," came the soft, beguiling voice from somewhere above him. Ainan stood perfectly still, leaning slightly forward. Legolas strained his ears.

"What do you hear?" Ainan asked. Legolas shook his head, gladly seizing upon any distraction that would delay his uncle punishing him.

"I hear nothing, Vedhir."

The evil elf laughed.

"Precisely! Nothing but absolute silence." He leaned closer, cupping his nephew's chin tightly in one long-fingered hand and wrenching his neck upward, his expression hard and yet rapt, exultant.

"Do you know how far we are from even the lowest cellars of this palace? I could drain the life's blood from you- and no one would ever hear you scream."

A cold sweat broke over Legolas' shivering body as those words bored into his mind, into his soul.

At a gesture, the dark elf stepped forward and slapped the handle of a long, leather whip into his lord's upturned palm. Ainan lashed it with apparent satisfaction, lifting it so that Legolas received a good long look at the horrible implement. The metal tips gleamed frighteningly in the flickering torchlight. Legolas started to shake uncontrollably as Tindómëtir dragged him upright and led him towards a vertical post sunk in the middle of the room that he had not seen before.

Dark spots and spatters smeared the floor around it. To Legolas' horrified eyes, it looked like old blood. He winced slightly as his sore wrists and ankles were secured once more by heavy chains that stretched him tightly against the wooden pole so that he could not struggle. His hands were cold with fear though his palms had begun to sweat as he listened to the silence around him.

He strained his neck, trying to peer over his shoulder but quite suddenly his uncle stepped into his line of vision, making him jump with startled fright. The chains clinked as he moved.

"I have never hit you with something like this before- it is very effective in curbing the disobedient. And I will enjoy this, nephew," Ainan said with a demented smile. "Your punishment is long overdue."

Legolas was trembling before the first blow even struck him. And when it did, he scarcely suppressed a yelp. He could feel the metal tipped thongs slicing into his back, ripping strips of skin from his shoulder blades. After the second or third lash, he could not help the tears streaming down his face and the babbling cries that broke from his lips. The blood was running down his back as the corrective whip curled around his side, scoring his ribs. Sweat dripped down into his eyes as he pressed his brow against the harsh wood of the pole, clenching his chains in his fingers so tightly his fingers hurt.

"Please, stop," he begged shamelessly, not caring how weak his uncle thought him as long as the pain stopped. "Please… Vedhir… stop it… Naneth, Naneth, thaed-nin, (Mother, Mother, help me,)" he sobbed wretchedly, no longer entirely sure of where he was. His words fell on deaf ears and after awhile, his pleas dwindled into incomprehensible sobs and still his uncle did not stop.

It was by far the worst beating he had ever received. But it was neither the last nor to be the worst he would ever receive from his uncle's hands.

The biting pain left him dizzy and reeling against the wooden pole, unable to collect himself as he hung limp in the chains now, unable to get his feet under him even to keep the pressure from his sore wrist. His legs refused to hold him.

When Tindómëtir unchained him, he fell limply to the ground, prostrate, with his belly pressed against the floor. Tears and sweat mingled with the blood on his face, dripping slowly onto the stone. His back felt as though it were on fire and he dared not move for fear of aggravating his injuries further.

He prayed his uncle was finished with him and would just let him die. But it was not to be. He felt rending fingers dig into his hair and pull him up mercilessly. Legolas could not even manage the strength to whimper at this new stab of pain through his aching skull as Tindómëtir held him up in a tight grip for examination.

Ainan thrust the prince's chin up roughly with the handle of the whip, coldly inspecting his flushed face.

"The prince of Mirkwood," Ainan sneered into Legolas' face. "Sobbing like an infant afraid of the dark- unable to free himself, to control himself." His tone turned, if possible, even colder.

"Your father would be ashamed of you, boy. Thankfully he is not here to witness how far his son has fallen."

Unable to look into his uncle's eyes for shame, Legolas kept them fastened on the floor, new tears burning his eyes. He fought them down determinedly, unwilling to show anymore weakness before his uncle and disgrace himself more than he already had.

Tindómëtir hauled the young prince backward, forcing his neck into some horrible contraption that had been attached to the wall. An iron collar flipped around his neck, attaching him tightly to the stone, restraining all movement. He couldn't even bend his knees for fear of choking himself to death as his back scraped painfully against the stone. His wrists were weighted with heavy chains that dragged him to the ground but though his limbs trembled with the exertion of holding them up, he could not release them.

"Haldir," Legolas murmured, squeezing his eyes shut as he desperately tried to force his mind away from this new torment. Ainan smiled coldly.

"He left you, child. He is the reason you are here now, suffering like this." Legolas glared up at him defiantly but his rebellion was short-lived.

"He didn't leave me! He-" The prince clamped his mouth shut tightly for fear of saying too much. But a fledgling doubt wormed its way into Legolas' mind, snaking sinuously around his thoughts. Where was Haldir? Had he too been taken? Was he dead? He said he wouldn't leave me...

His uncle seemed to read in his eyes more than the prince revealed.

"You believed he could protect you?" Ainan scoffed. "That worthless filth could not save you anymore than your father could."

"Speaking of which," with a corrosive smile, Ainan turned towards the door as it opened once more. Tindómëtir heaved a dark something into the room behind him. Legolas hadn't even noticed that the other elf had left until now but Ainan's next words reeled in his attention.

"Here is someone you have long missed, tôrion."

Legolas looked up in mingled horror and relief at the uncovered figure bound and gagged before him.

"Adar," he whispered. Guilt and shame pierced him anew as he looked upon his father's beloved face.

Thranduil looked terribly ill and thin for his captors had fed him just enough to keep him alive and barely that. Great dark bruises and wicked lacerations bore silent tormented witness to long nights of abuse and his wrists were raw and bloodied from the days he had spent in chains. His once handsome face looked gaunt in the torchlight, his eyes sunken and hollow as he raised them slowly to his son's face.

Legolas looked quickly away, not wanting his father to see his shame and tears that were welling in his eyes.

Ainan slapped the handle of the whip in the palm of his hand as he stood before Thranduil, flicking the blood-stained tips idly at his face. The King flinched away from them, a shudder racing through him. Anger, guilt and grief pierced him as he realized how much his son had suffered: Legolas wouldn't even look at him!

"You were always too soft with the boy- he needed to be taught. And he has been." Ainan's eyes flamed wickedly. "He has learned, Thranduil. He has learned how his own father let him down, left him and abandoned him."

Ainan smiled as Thranduil gritted his teeth around the tight cord in his mouth, his blue eyes blazing with anger and hatred. But beneath it, his brother-in-law could see the pain and knew he had struck a nerve. He knew how much Thranduil loathed himself for what he felt he had allowed to happen to his wife and son.

For the moment, however, Ainan turned his back on the King and loomed over the young prince once more. Legolas looked up at him with naked fear in his eyes.

"Say it."

Legolas shook his head hesitatingly, not knowing what his uncle wanted him to say. Ainan glared down at him sternly.

"Apologize to your father!" Ainan ordered, giving him a cut with the whip. Legolas shied away from the blow, his small body shaking with silent sobs that he viciously repressed.

"I-I'm sorry, Adar. I'm sorry."

"For?" Ainan prompted.

"For being weak and foolish. I do not deserve to be called your son," Legolas' own horrible, self-deprecating thoughts supplied the words, tears pouring unchecked down the young prince's face, try as he might to stop them, his heart slowly breaking. He wasn't what Haldir had wasn't brave or noble. He was scared and ashamed. He could not, dared not, call himself the King's son.

Thranduil writhed against the bit in his mouth, longing with all his heart to speak to his son, to reassure him that he still loved him and did not hate him. How he wished to wipe the tears from his dear child's eyes and embrace him with all of his might.

But all Legolas saw was the stone floor, unable to look up and see what he thought would be his father's disappointment and rage. Tindómëtir seized the King by the hair and dragged him away at a voiceless command from his master.

The damage had been done.

Ainan stepped back with a cruel smile on his face.

"Look what you have done, Legolas. See how shamed he is of you? He cannot even bear the sight of you," Ainan hissed softly, knowing full well that Legolas would not look up for humiliation.

"What would your mother think if she could see you now?"

The young prince's voice hitched with sobs as he shot a panicked glance up at his uncle. He could not bear to have his mother look at him the way he imagined his father had. He could not bear her disappointment.

"Please, Vedhir, please don't tell my mother…"

Ainan looked down at the slumped golden head of his nephew, his eyes stony as he whispered, almost to himself.

"I wonder which will break first- you or your mother's heart?"


Haldir began to become increasingly frustrated. No one would tell him anything. He had no idea where his friends were or, indeed, if they were even still alive and Legolas had vanished from the face of the earth. Beneath the broil of anger and pain that nearly overwhelmed him, his sense of guilt and failure cut through him like a knife.

He had failed them. All of them. Rameil and Ancadal had fallen into enemy hands because he had left them. He had abandoned his command and they had suffered because of it he was sure. Legolas had been captured because he was stupid enough to walk right into a trap without noticing they were being pursued.

He had been left alone for a long time now, neither given food nor drink. His accusing thoughts would not let him rest. He lay in dark thought, watching the lantern flicker until the door to his cell opened once more and Kirar entered again. He crossed the room in three strides and swiftly unlocked the chains from around the other elf's wrists.

Looking up, Haldir saw another guard stood in the doorway, an arrow half-drawn to his bow. He didn't have to ask to know that if he moved that arrow would end up in him.

Kirar moved quickly, wrapping a leather restraint around Haldir's wrists, tying them tightly and attaching them to a lead he held in his hand. The elven lieutenant grabbed his arm roughly and pulled him to his feet.

"It is time for you to face your charges," he said by way of explanation.

Haldir found himself unceremoniously dragged from his prison and a blindfold fastened tightly about his eyes. He stumbled in his blindness, unsure of where to put his feet as the lead around his wrists tautened. He expanded his senses, straining to listen to every sound, hear every breath exhaled by the guards at his sides, the slightest echo of a footstep or trickle of water. He felt a sharp prick in his lower back and jerked forward in surprise.

"Attempt to escape and your friends will die," a soft cruel voice whispered acerbically. Haldir stiffened in anger as he recognized Tindómëtir's dark tones.

"What have you done with them?" he hissed back but a warning tug on his constraints silenced him. Haldir walked a little faster to keep away from the sharp point at his back and to keep the lead rope slack so he wouldn't stumble.

They moved as silently as ghosts and Haldir quickly lost track of how many turns and twists they took. Every so often, he could see a flare of light through the dark linen around his eyes as though from torches but they were gone quickly and he was plunged back into darkness.

He nearly tripped as his foot suddenly met the lowest tier in a long flight of stairs that spiraled quickly upward. Dimly, he could hear the growing murmur of voices. A crowd of people seemed to have gathered somewhere in the upper halls of the palace.

The damp smell of the stone had vanished and now he felt a fresher breeze on his face. Someone untied the bandage from around his eyes and he blinked slightly against the glare of the sunlight that poured through the arched windows. He glanced around with a growing sense of apprehension at the crowd that had gathered inside the cavernous hall.

There were elven guards interspersed among the spectators, flanking the doors through which he had entered, were two others holding long slender bows and an arrow notched to each bowstring. There was to be no escape from here. Haldir searched among the sea of unfamiliar features and finally caught sight of Rameil and Ancadal who were led forward, also bound. Silently, he breathed a sigh of relief. At least they were still alive and looked mostly unhurt.

The room was stately and grand. On either side marched tall, dark green veined pillars. The sunlight gleamed off the gold and turned the white marble cream. At the pillars' great feet stood more guards in the livery of the King with arrows half-drawn and faces of stone. The bright light pouring through the arched windows starkly contrasted with the grimness of the fair faces surrounding him.

As Kirar led him forward, Haldir tried not to look at the people around him: elves that whispered behind their hands or eyed him darkly with mistrust and even fear. He felt rather self-conscious under all of those scrutinizing, piercing gazes but kept his head up and stared straight ahead towards the far end of the hall where sat a raised dais above three long broad stairs. On either side of a tall ornate wooden chair sat two others, less richly carved but grand.

Ainan sat in the centre chair, robed in a rich scarlet robe of state, his golden hair gleaming in the sunlight. Most of those others on the King's council were elves Haldir did not recognize and Telas' former place on the right hand side of the King had been taken by a radiant, dark-haired female with viciously calculating eyes. He would find no help there.

The Queen was strangely absent.

Tindómëtir cast one last sardonic grin at him before bounding quickly up the stairs to take his place behind his master's chair. Ainan stood slowly from his seat, raising his voice so that all could hear.

"Do you know what you stand charged of, elves of Lothlórien?" he asked silkily.

Rameil and Ancadal glanced at Haldir for instructions but he subtly shook his head, warning them to make no answer. There was little they could say that would help their situation.

Finding them unresponsive, Ainan continued, pacing slowly down the stairs.

"Since you arrived here, Mirkwood has fallen into the darkest of shadow. Our trusted councilor was taken to Mandos' Halls not long ago- found poisoned in his room- and you were seen leaving those very rooms that night- and outside of them the day before. Trying to recover the evidence were you not?" Ainan's face wore a dark scowl but Haldir knew there was a smile twitching the corners of his lips.

"Our beloved King was also taken from us in the very forest he ruled over. It is impossible that he could have been attacked by anyone other than elves and yet most of his soldiers were with him when he went on that hunt. All were slain," he informed the surrounding spectators with a shake of his head.

"And now, our prince is missing- kidnapped, and perhaps murdered, by these strangers- traitors to our realm I name thee now!"

Ainan swept a hand out dramatically, his voice ringing through the tense air.

Haldir's eyes widened as he realized now the position they were in: accused of base treachery, high treason to the crown, of murder.

Ainan could do as he pleased with them.

"Coincidentally, all occurred at the same moment you happened to arrive in our forest. I told you once, my People, that outsiders were not to be trusted and I say now that any who count these traitorous elves among their friends or allies are as good as they and, as such, deserves their punishment," Ainan's keen eyes flickered around the hall, searching for any sympathetic faces, and finding none.

Haldir closed his eyes for a moment. The fact that the real traitors indeed stood before them without their knowing chafed him horribly. There would have been something darkly amusing in this scene had it not been so deadly serious.

"Will you not confess to your crimes?"

Haldir opened his eyes, raising his head proudly.

"We have been allies of Mirkwood since it was founded. We would not betray them now. What have we to gain from it?" Haldir said, softly but with quiet authority. He knew nothing he could say would sway the angry, sorrow-filled faces around him. But he had to try.

"You are merely trying to insinuate yourselves among us so that your Lady's influence spreads until she controls all of this great forest! And it begins here... with murder!" Ainan shouted, his eyes blazing. Those eyes held more truth than the lies spilling from his lips.

"That is preposterous!" Haldir insisted, trying not to show his anger. "We wish no such thing. Why would we resort to murder if one of our own is dead?"

Ainan smiled and shrugged.

"Who is to say he is dead? More than likely, he returned to Lórien to bring tidings to your sorceress so she may prepare her forces."

Muttering arose at this. And Haldir saw Ancadal shudder angrily.

"You buried him yourself!- you lie!" the younger elf burst out, throwing a hateful glare like a javelin at the false king.

"Burned," Ainan corrected gently in so soft a whisper so that even those pressed close could not have heard.

"Another lie concocted for our benefit," Ainan spoke in a louder tone, a deprecating smile falling across his lips. He seemed to be truly enjoying this.

The entire hall stood breathless, waiting upon their new King's word- to see what he would do with the traitors.

"You are fortunate I do not remove your head from your shoulders though there are many who would thank me for it," he smiled diabolically.

"Murdering spies," Ainan spat in contempt. One could not help but believe him. The power of his mind and iron will was nearly overwhelming, choking out all other thoughts. Eyes turned towards the emissaries in dark horror and mistrust.

Haldir bristled but did not move, knowing full well that any anger he expressed would be taken as a threat and thus punished. He felt so powerless! Unconsciously, he clenched his fists, straining against his bonds as he longed to hit the grinning elf before him.

Anger and frustration boiled in his veins like hot water. Haldir's gaze raked the other's inscrutable face and could detect nothing. But there was a strange look in Ainan's eyes as though a flood of rage threatened to burst the constrained calm. His eyes flickered downward to break the gaze of the serpent before him and he tensed, catching sight of what looked like a dark spatter hardly visible against the scarlet sleeve of Ainan's royal robes. Haldir's eyes flooded with horror.

"What have you done with Legolas?" he hissed. Ainan gave him a faint smile but it did not reach his eyes.

"I was not aware that Mirkwood royalty answered to the lowly soldiers of Lothlórien."

Haldir lunged forward.

Restraining hands seized his shoulders. Haldir twisted around, trying to see who had grabbed him. Elven soldiers with mask like faces had seized him. Another stepped forward with his bow drawn tight to the string, the sharp tip nearly brushing Haldir's chin. Ainan paced slowly up to the elven captain, smiling idly. In the shadows, he could see Rameil and Ancadal held in a similar manner.

"I know you for what you are," Haldir whispered quietly, his eyes burning as he stared at the other elf in absolute fury, still struggling against the constraining arms of his guards. "You will pay for this treason," he snarled boldly. His tone was nowhere near as frigid as his eyes. Ainan grinned more broadly down at him.

"Watch your tongue, traitor. I am master here." He cocked his head almost thoughtfully, a slight smile on his face.

"I think… you need to spend a night in our dungeons to reflect on the consequences of your actions until I see fit to release you and give you to the executioner."

"You cannot hold us against our will!" Haldir cried out, shocked at this injustice though he knew it should not have surprised him. Ainan merely signaled to the guards who dragged them away without question, their faces blank and emotionless as they turned on their own.

Tindómëtir smiled in quiet satisfaction, halting the guards with a gesture under the dark doorway which twisted back down towards the cells. He leaned towards Haldir with a malicious glitter in his dark eyes.

"Take your last sight of the sun, Haldir. For you will not see it again."

Haldir fought towards the elf but one of the guards smote him in the jaw, knocking him to his knees and wrenching his tied wrists up painfully. Haldir shook himself as he was dragged back to his feet.

A young woman stood in the shadows, her bright eyes watching as the three elves were dragged away. Her plain servant's dress rustled as she rushed quickly away to report all that she had seen and heard.